Silvering
by Narelena
Summary: Divisions between worlds are painful. Divisions within the soul are unbearable. Reconciling the two is seemingly impossible….
1. Silvering: Part I

Disclaimer: Narnia and its characters are not mine. No infringement intended upon the property of C.S. Lewis, Disney, Walden Media, or anyone else involved.

Author's Note: All mistakes are that of the author. Thank you to all who reviewed my last story.

Summary: Divisions between worlds are painful. Divisions within the soul are unbearable. Reconciling the two is seemingly impossible….

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**Silvering: Part I**

I don't know how long I've been sitting here. Long enough that my tea has cooled, and the shadows are long on the wall. And still, I am no closer to a solution.

The slim girl, hovering on the cusp of womanhood, regards me with level eyes. Her back is straight, ankles modestly crossed and soft hands folded demurely in the delicate folds of her skirt. In short, she is the picture of a well-bred young woman. But that is not what I care about.

I search her face for something, a clue to her character or a hint of her soul. Her eyes track mine. How can I spend so much time with this person and still feel as though I do not know her at all?

I should question her, but I already know the responses for we have done this before. The words will come from her with the tumbling fury of a winter stream only to dry to nothing in an instant. They do not reveal anything beyond the superficial.

It is in the secret folds of her heart that I sense my answer. A conflict of some sort prevents her from becoming the confidant lady her exterior depicts. Yes, I know I am right, for there is both hope and fear in her eyes. How do I mend the rift between the woman and the child, pulling the parts of her soul together, blending them seamlessly into one person? I can almost see the division in her, tearing her body in half from the inside. Here and there, young and old, belief and suspicion. Hope and fear.

Her mouth twists with pain though there is no wound. Her eyes are a torrent of emotion and her hand rises, reaching to me. Desperate, I lean back. I do not know how to help you! I have no cure for your ailment, no balm to sooth your battered spirit, and no comfort to offer.

I close my eyes rather than watch her pale face. I hear the shutter open, salty sea air seeking entrance into the room. The break of the waves upon the shore is clearer now, and my heart and breath fall into its rhythm without my consent. My inner discord is replaced by harmony of the surf. The breakers, too, struggle daily, constantly battering the shoreline and struggling against the confines of the tide. But still, it is part of Narnia. And it is beautiful. The seawater moves toward its destination even if it does not know where or why. It had existed before, it would endure, and it will play its role now. It is constant, but mutable. Just as the human spirit.

I open my eyes, just as the setting sun bathes the room in its fiery hues. For just a moment, I think I see the Lion, but no, it is Peter's tunic as he enters my room. I had not noticed his entrance.

"Susan?" He walks toward me, "Are you feeling alright? Lucy said you were unwell."

He comes up behind me, laying a hand on my shoulder. I turn back to the girl, but she is no longer there. I only see a radiant woman with clear eyes, her brother's hand on her shoulder.

I meet Peter's eyes in the mirror. "Yes, I am quite well."

I am Susan, Queen of Narnia. And I shall not be torn in two.


	2. Silvering: Part II

Disclaimer: Narnia and its characters are not mine. No infringement intended upon the property of C.S. Lewis, Disney, Walden Media, or anyone else involved.

Author's Note: All mistakes are that of the author.

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**Silvering:** **Part II**

I cannot find her. I've searched for days, even weeks, but she is lost. She will not come to me, and I cannot go to her. It is forbidden.

Peter insists that she is still there, but his eyes are dull and shadows play on the unnaturally round contours of his face. It is a boy's countenance, offset by too old eyes. He, too, feels the loss.

I look for her again, but do not find her. I am unsurprised.

Peter is across the hall; I can hear him and Edmund reenacting some battle, Lucy cheering them on. How can he play at a time like this? My heart is torn, half hidden away from me forever. It bleeds out into my chest, a mortal wound that cannot be staunched. I gave my all to her, and she is gone.

Gone. Perhaps she never even existed. Logically, if I cannot see her now and have no physical remnant of her, I have no proof of her existence. If she was not real, her departure cannot be so painful. A comforting thought, one I find myself clinging to despite knowing it to be a lie.

I stare into the looking glass and see her eyes gazing back at me. I cannot bear the reminder. From outside my room, I hear Peter address Queen Lucy. The words cut through me like ice shards through my heart. It is not real, it cannot be. Why would it be taken away?

Don't think about it, and it cannot hurt. Forget it. Forget all of it.

The face in the mirror is too similar, and I find myself both here and there, a peculiar double vision. No! I yank my thoughts away and, with frenzied movements dig, through a drawer. Forget.

My hand seizing its prize, I pull the small bag from the drawer and spill the contents onto the vanity. With trembling fingers, I uncap the lipstick, the cover clattering to the floor.

The red color fills my vision; the red of Narnia. No, I tell myself. It's the red of the latest style. I apply it and add color to my cheeks and eyelids. I look at myself critically, concluding it is still too similar. Too much like Narnia, the, the game we played. Yes, it was only a game. I twist my hair up, savagely pinning it into place. I never wore it like this in—well, before.

Peering into the looking glass, I force myself to see a stylish young woman, not a fraud. If I cannot go to her, and she will not find me, I will forget her and bar my heart against the pain. I will cover the memories and live only here. I will end this and Narnia will cease to exist. I cannot live my life under the constant shadow of paradise lost.

Why, then, do her eyes accuse me of falsehood and betrayal? They are always there when I look into the mirror. Watching, always so sad, always so desolate.

I respond to the pain in my heart and bring the looking glass down hard on edge of the table. Its surface shatters, distorting my image.

"Susan, we heard the most terrible noise. Is everything alright?" Lucy rushes into the room, light from the hall spilling in. I stare at her, the image of a grown queen overlapping that of a small girl. I stop the memory and focus on Lucy as she is now. Behind her my brothers crowd into the doorway, and I force myself to see them as boys.

"It is alright. I just dropped my hand mirror," I say, surprised at how little my voice stammers. Edmund is giving me an odd look, as though he knows that so much damage to a mirror cannot be from simply dropping it. What would he know—he is only a little boy.

"What were you doing?" Lucy asks, studying the mess and my appearance. She picks up the lipstick and turns it over in her hand.

"Nothing, really, just pretending."

I give her a smile that feels false, but she returns it. But I can feel the weight of Peter's gaze.

"Come into the boys' room with us," Lucy pleads, tugging on my hand.

I cannot go; I could no sooner fly than face them and those memories. I shake my head, citing the need to clean up the mess and wash before bed. Lucy makes only a token protest before kissing my check and going to take Edmund's hand. Her affection feels strange with the layer of cosmetic separating us. My younger siblings depart, but Peter remains, leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed. Arms that should be more muscled and attached to broader shoulders.

He says nothing as I gather the makeup, only moving to help when I begin to clean the glass. It is not that bad; most of the glass remained in the frame. I refuse to look into it.

"Hiding is not the answer," he says abruptly. "There is the pain of leaving, but there is joy in memories and shared experience. Do not shut us out, Susan."

I look at the floor; it is hard not to hear the High King speaking. But I cannot take comfort in him anymore, just as I cannot reconcile Peter of England with Peter of Narnia. I cannot see one person. Just as I cannot find her.

He deposits the glass into a waste bin and looks at me. How can I make him understand that I am not strong like he is, that I cannot deal with this the same way? I can find no words and after a long moment he reaches to pull me against him. But I shy away. I do not need to look at his face to see the bewildered hurt. He kisses the top of my head before exiting silently, pulling the door closed behind him. Without the glow of the hall lights, my room seems unnaturally dark.

I sit on the floor in the darkness, the pull of the pins in my hair a welcome change from the pain in my heart. Trying to make the hurt stop, trying to forget, trying to stop looking. For I cannot find Queen Susan of Narnia. She will not come to me, and I am forbidden from going to her. And the eyes that are hers and mine overflow with tears.

--end--

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**Note**: 'Silvering' is the term for the process by which glass is coated with a reflective surface (thus making a mirror). Thanks for reading! Narelena


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